


No More A Portrait On The Wall

by Slytherinflower



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Hogwarts, Humour, Ministry of Magic, Post War, Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:01:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29637792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherinflower/pseuds/Slytherinflower
Summary: Three years after the wizarding war and the downfall of none other than Voldemort and his followers; Hermione Granger has already worked two years as a Potions Professor at Hogwarts. Different from her former Potions professor, her classes were at least joyful and didn't contain much shouting or point-taking.On the other hand, Hermione is desperately trying to figure out how to make an antidote for the Obliviate-spell. Her parents still lived in Australia, oblivious to the fact that they had a daughter. But after what seemed to be the millionth time of failing to make the antidote, she is advised to pay the portrait of Severus Snape a visit. He, of course, has no intention to speak to her for the rest of his life as a portrait, but with Minerva on his shoulders, he finds himself with no other option.During their time together in the Headmistress' office, Hermione decides not to tell him what kind of potion she is attempting to brew, just in case he finds her actions just as stupid as in the past. Instead, she becomes less confident in her attempt to brew the antidote and finds herself spending more and more time with the dark wizard.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Severus Snape, SSHG, Severus Snape x Hermione Granger, Severusxhermione, Snamione - Relationship, Snanger - Relationship, sevmione, snager - Relationship
Comments: 6
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have any motivation or inspiration to the other fic. This one, however, is planned thoroughly. Hopefully, you'll like it!

_Too much had changed – too many had either died or paid some form of punishment during the war. Innocent lives of students, staff and even members of the Order and The Ministry had fallen to their feet – to their deaths. They took their last breath as the war raged around them as they witnessed the wizarding world that once were filled with love, had fallen into the wrong hands; hands that craved nothing else than power._  
  
Hermione flinched as the rattling liquid in the cauldron in front of her burst into an acidic green flame; her body rigid with anxiety, making every limb inside of her turn numb of the sensation of failure once more. Backing away to the closest wall, she sank down; her hands folding tightly around her legs and hugged them solidly into her shaking body.  
  
They all once said she was the brightest witch of the time, but for the past year everything had turned out to be the complete opposite. She had failed not once, but hundredth – if not thousands of times. And now the frustration began uncloaking her features. She felt defeated by what she hoped she could accomplish, but in the end, that hope ended up bursting into thin air in front of her.  
  
Dropping her head into the hardness of her knees and her hair obscured the last inch of her face, she allowed the tormenting tears stream down her pale cheeks; her body fighting against the gut-wrenching cries that her stomach was unable to hold back.  
  
_She did not dare to look up at the mess on the workbench in front of her. She did not dare look at the failure.  
  
Her failure._  
  
As the wetness from her eyes continued to cloak the palms of her hands and her gut-wrenching cries echoed loudly in the lab, she was finding herself in, she was oblivious to the fact that another person stepped into the room; her gentle eyes drifting onto the rigid yet convulsing ball of a body that was halfway leaned against the stone wall of the Potions lab at Hogwarts.  
  
It was not before that the elder witch crouched down beside her only to push away the young witch’s hands from her face, “look at me,” she spoke with a firm but a tender sound of her voice. And when Hermione’s amber eyes found the gentle eyes of her old Transfigurations professor, she broke completely down in her embrace; her body convulsing rigidly against Minerva’s.  
  
“ _I – I’ve failed them_ …” the young witch cried helplessly into the fabric of her robes,  
  
Holding tightly around Hermione’s shivering body, Minerva’s parted lips exposed a heavy sigh, as Hermione’s gut-wrenching cries echoed forcefully around them. Blinking slowly, Minerva could not help but feel rather powerless; ever since the young witch was sorted into the House of Gryffindor, it certainly was unavoidable to feel rather protective of the girl, more so than she did with the rest of her House. She did not have children of her own, but much to her effort, she always looked after her students as if she were their mother. Minerva would always take care of them, sit with them, talk with them, and treat them as she would have done to her own kids.  
  
Loosening the grip around the girl, Minerva tilted the young witch face against her own and as she met the distressed amber eyes of her former student, she felt the dismay of sadness rush through her. She had been one of the many students who witnessed her fellow students and professors fall to their deaths; she had, alongside Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter ran cross-country to hunt Horcruxes and fought so heroically against the darkest wizard of all time.  
  
_Hermione was anything but weak._  
  
She had seen more deaths than any at her age should have and she had fought so bravely with her life in a war that should not have taken place; in the end, the young witch housed more courage in herself than the rest of Gryffindor held as one. She was strong and fearless, and the elder witch would forever treasure it in the depth of her heart.  
  
_Hermione Granger was courageous and powerful._  
  
“Who?” Minerva asked quietly, her fingers holding the witch tightly into her gentle embrace.  
  
As her cries transpired into quiet muffles, Hermione pulled away from the Headmistress; her blank eyes showing nothing more than emptiness and defeat, visible traces of tears had manifested down her swollen and reddened face. Feeling her heart giving yet another hardening throb, she supported the palm down on the stone floor and sat up. With her eyes locked on the floor beneath her, she shook her head as tears once again manifested fiercely in the corners of her eyes, “… my parents,” she sighed mournfully, gesturing her hand toward the workbench where the green liquid still dripped from the top of the cauldron.  
  
Confusion washed over Minerva’s face as she arched her eyebrow; all she knew was that the young witch had rushed her parents into hiding just before the war began. Yet there had to be more to the story, or else the two of them would not have been sitting on the stone floor in the bowels of the castle.  
  
Taking her chances, she looked around the dimly lit lab and noticed the over-heated cauldron sitting on the workbench; what was supposed to be liquid had turned to slime as it ran down its sides, spilling a deadly fume across the room.  
  
Deciding it was wise not to ask, she found Hermione’s shivering person again and smiled gently, “Is there anything I can assist you with?” she asked, her eyes burning with comfort and warmth.  
  
Hermione shook her head powerfully, “No – I…I..”  
  
“I see,” Minerva spoke soothingly and stood from the coldness of the floor, gesturing her hand to the young witch, and hauled her up to her feet.  
  
Minerva shot a cautious glare towards the raging cauldron when Hermione stood beside her and wiped her face with her hands, erasing all traces of the tears she had cried. Dropping her eyes to the floor, she felt the numbness overtake her again, “It was supposed to bring them back.” She pointed out with a small voice, her hand beckoning with a tentative movement towards the cauldron.  
  
The elder witch parted her lips and fixed Hermione with a hesitant glare, “Professor – I am not sure I follow...” Minerva eventually conceded.   
  
the young witch decided with uncertainty to meet the older witch’s eyes; tears still threatening to escape the edges of her eyes. “Before we returned to Hogwarts in our seventh year…” her voice drifted quietly when she noticed the concerned look in the Headmistress’ eyes. Swallowing loudly, Hermione directed her gaze in front of her and let out a deep but ragged breath, “ – Professor, I am a muggle-born witch with muggle parents. I considered them to be a possible target for… for him –” tears welled up in her eyes and quickly she wiped them away when she felt Minerva’s hand pull her into her protective embrace, “Professor… Wh-what I did was unforgivable, but I had to do it. I saw no other choice!” she explained in a hoarse tone, her eyes flickered wildly as tears spun down her face, making her feel just as empty and defeated as half an hour before.  
  
Wrapping the other arm around her, Hermione exhaled heavily against the fabric of Minerva’s robes. “Please don’t judge me, Professor.” She asked almost inaudibly.  
  
Minerva shook her head in confirmation, her eyes glistening with warmth. “You have my word.” A smile wrapped around the edges of her lips as she let go of the girl.  
  
“—The potion… was supposed to become an antidote to the Obliviate spell…” her voice escaped as barely a whisper now. And Minerva could see it in her eyes how much effort and strength it took for her to be honest.  
  
Falling silent in front of her former student, she quickly swiped her eyes over the leaking cauldron again and put her hand on Hermione’s shoulder; her smile faded into nothingness as a deadly shiver sprung down her spine.  
  
“You obliviated them?”  
  
“I… I did…” – “and I do not know how to fix it. As far as I know, the spell is not reversible.” Hermione sighed coldly.  
  
Shrugging quietly, she took a step towards the cauldron and narrowed her eyes, “You tried to make an antidote?”  
  
“Yes… but I don’t know what I am doing wrong…”  
  
Fixing the young witch with a distant glare, she tilted her head and crossed her arms over her chest, shifting quietly where she stood. “ _You should never feel like you’re alone in this, Hermione. And although I am not your guardian or a member of your family, you should’ve spoken to me_.”  
  
Looking rather bewildered at the older witch, Hermione’s lips parted quietly as a new steam of deadly smelling vapour escaped the cauldron. “Do you know how to fix it?” for a split second her voice was filled with hope,  
  
“No – but…“ she peered at her with a comforting glance and shook her head, “there may be someone you could talk to,” Minerva said and smiled.  
  
“Who?”  
  
“Since this isn’t in my field of expertise, you should speak to someone who is.” Minerva sat down on the chair behind her and took a deep breath, studying the young witch in front of her as she began pacing around.  
  
“B… but Slughorn quit after my apprenticeship. I doubt he’s interested in helping more than necessary, especially when he wished to retire as quickly as possible.” The young witch stated and crossed her arms over her chest as she felt the last straw of hope evaporate from her body.  
  
Minerva shook her head violently as a gentle smile twitched on her lips, “Oh, no. Not Horace. He could not help if he so wished. That man is good, but not nearly as good as one certain Slytherin.” Arching her eyebrow in anticipation, the older witch swiped her eyes over Hermione.  
  
“You don’t mean…” her soft voice drifted quietly into emptiness,  
  
“Severus Snape – yes.” Minerva smiled.  
  
Feeling more defeated than before, Hermione let out an exacerbated breath, her chest heaving and lowering with anxiety as she remembered the man who had gone out of his way during her years as his student, to humiliate, bully and bring her down every time he saw fit to it. “Even if I did… the chances of him speaking to me are completely implausible.” She shook her head as dismay washed over her features.  
  
Minerva let the silence fall upon them as she took her time to study her. She knew that Severus hadn’t been too kind-hearted to the girl back in the day, and as understandable as it was that she hesitated to even give the man the time of her day, he was probably the most qualified to answer her questions than any other Professor at Hogwarts.  
  
“You would be surprised, Hermione.”  
  
Not really following her point, Hermione gestured an empty glare and ran her hand through her hair.  
  
“I would suggest paying him a visit tomorrow. If you want me to accompany you, I will do so. But for the rest of today, I would let him be.”  
  
The young witch began working as a Potions professor two years ago, and up until now, she had been lucky to avoid her former Professor. She had not seen him since he laid so vulnerable on his death bed in the Shrieking Shack after being served as Nagini’s dinner. And because of that, her days as a professor seemed to be easier than she had thought.  
  
Feeling the curiosity peak through her eyes, she fixed the Headmistress with a dismal glare, “Has anything happened today since I can’t speak to him until tomorrow?”  
  
Minerva shook her head in amusement as a gentle chuckle escaped her smiling lips, “When you spend too much time with Albus, whether you’re dead or alive, there is no doubt that arguments will happen. Unfortunately, after his death, Severus has… become more of the argumentative type.” Minerva continued,  
  
“Today he decided it wise to argue against me and since my patience was tested enough yesterday; my hand happened to grab the hold of my wand only to throw a stun and silencing spell at his portrait. So for the sake of anyone’s safety, my office will not be open until tomorrow.”  
  
“You stunned him?” Hermione’s voice echoed violently around the lab and her wild expression found Minerva’s amused one.  
  
“For the sake of peace, I did.” She mused quietly.  
  
Raising from the chair, Minerva quickly looked over at the cauldron before looking back at the witch, “Now, let’s clean this mess up before we’ll retreat to the Great Hall for supper.”  
  
Nodding in agreement, Hermione withdrew her wand from the sleeve of her dress as the two of them began erasing every last proof of what once was a mess.


	2. A new plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for taking the time reading this fic. I hope you enjoy it, and I promise it will be anything but dark. Perhaps a little sad, but nothing more. 
> 
> If you like it, please leave some love! ❤︎

“ _And you want me to forgive you for not only stunning me but for silencing my bloody portrait as well?_ ” Snape snapped dangerously, his black orbs flaring with fire. What had been an unreadable expression painted across his face was now faded and replaced with fury, and his voice flashing murderously.  
  
Looking away from the elder witch, his eyes came down to Hermione as though he contemplated her reasons for asking his assistance. A cold shrill rushed through her and the painful ball in her stomach grew bigger. All she wanted – needed, was to have her parents back, she wanted them to remember her as their daughter and not as a family friend.  
  
Watching him tentatively back, his orbs faded into the abyss of darkness surrounding them; the thick air around them almost choking her as she awaited his final response. They said the war had changed everyone who had fought in it, including the former Potions Master, but by the looks of it – he had not.  
  
“And _you?_ ” he called coolly, making her body shiver under her.  
  
“Sir, I only ask to spend a few hours under your guidance and assistance.” Her voice was filled with uncertainty, and her eyes never left his portrait when she spoke. “however, I do understand if you choose not to.” The lips of the young witch twitched but failed to alter into a smile.  
  
When Hermione dropped her head, she still felt his dangerous glare linger upon her small form. Even in death, his presence made her feel just as little and weak as he did when he was alive. Her body struggling now to fight the battle of her actions as the memories surged powerfully through her head.  
  
For as long as Hermione could remember, teachers had declared her as the Brightest witch of her age, yet she felt anything but that at times. If she had been what they called, the Brightest witch of her age, she would surely be able to solve the cause of her constant failing attempts.  
  
Normally, she would have sought to the expertise of the books in the school library but considering that no one ever had succeeded in making such antidote before made her attempts look rather brainless. There had been times where it looked like she had succeeded, but seconds later the concoction proved the complete opposite and splattered with force around her, yet it wasn’t until her last attempt that she had come to the conclusion of not being able to succeed either way.  
  
When Minerva noticed the trembling form on her side, she didn’t hesitate to pull her into her embrace. The elder witch had no doubt that if anyone in the entire wizarding world could succeed in composing an antidote to the Obliviate-spell, it would undoubtedly be her former Gryffindor student. And as much as Severus hated admitting it, he too, knew that the young witch was more than talented to achieve success in Potions.   
  
“Oh, for Godric’s sake, Severus –“ Minerva argued loudly, her eyebrows snapping together, and the lines of her lips turned into slits, “I do not see why you cannot assist her, when all you do is sit around in your portrait all day.” She added with a dangerous tone in her voice.  
  
Snape’s lips drew back a growl, annoyance glowed in his dark eyes. “If you have not noticed, Mi- _ner_ -va, I have been dead for quite some time.”  
  
“ _Dead or not, Severus, you are still perfectly alive within those frames of yours which makes you capable enough to give her a chance_.” Minerva shot back, her voice exploding with sarcasm as exasperation washed over her wrinkling features.  
  
Fully aware that his cause was lost within the lines of her objections, the dark wizard sighed but still held his cold glare on the young Gryffindor. However, before he had the chance to raise his final answer, the young witch took a small step towards his portrait; her eyes still fixed on the floor, “I would not ask this of you if my reasons weren’t genuine,” the words leaving her parted lips escaped as a plead and not as a statement.  
  
Nodding in deep contemplation, Severus finally agreed. “Very well,” his eyes snapped shut and his brows knitted together in disdain. It didn’t matter whether he was dead or not – with Minerva roaming this castle she would make it her mission to make his days as miserable as possible. He watched as the older witch wrapped her arm around the Gryffindor’s shoulder, yet the girl turned to him – her eyes slightly gleaming with what looked like appreciation. Turning back again, the two of them left the office without another word.  
  
As the minutes passed and silence once more drifted into the room, Severus sank back down in his chair and exhaled deeply – his eyes fixed suspiciously on the portrait of Phineas Black who beckoned a similar glare back when a small grin appeared across his lips, “Well, at least you will have someone different to speak to than Albus,” he conceded with an amused flicker in his eyes.  
  
“Indeed, Phineas – because I have _always revelled_ in participating in conversations.” The dark wizard snarled.

Earning himself a scornful glare from the portrait of Black, Severus sighed and allowed himself to sink back into the silence when another voice filled the room. _Can he ever just mind his own business?,_ the dark wizard cursed inside of his head and closed his eyes in hopes that the old wizard would come to his senses.  
  
“Severus, my dear boy,” Albus sighed silkily. Severus could feel his blue eyes staring back at him, “When a woman seeks your assistance, you will do well to not turn her down.” A soft voice came from the portrait on his right.  
  
“She is hardly a woman, Albus. May I suggest mending those glasses of yours?” Severus snapped.  
  
“Come off it, my boy. Both you and I know she means well.”  
  
Severus entwined his fingers over his bulging stomach and fury rushed through him. “Like the way she acted when she ran off with those dunderhead friends of hers?” the Potions Master snapped with a deadly growl.  
  
There was a slight pause before Albus decided it wise to speak again, “We don’t always act on logic when we’re young, and it is easy to pursue rather foolish ideas.”  
  
“Yes, because being young is all about putting yourself and your dimwit friends in grave danger,” he rolled his eyes in despise and heaved a dreadful sigh.  
  
A mirthful chuckle escaped Phineas but stopped abruptly when two murderous orbs shot back at him. “Surely you of all people know that no one in their right minds will ever come to you for assistance. And I do believe she has a valid reason since she after all is asking… _you_.”  
  
Severus didn’t bother to answer. Instead, he closed his eyes again, crossed his arms over his chest and sank comfortably down in his chair, preparing for what felt like becoming a sleepless night – though it didn’t mean that he couldn’t make himself comfortable enough.  
  
_____________________________  
  
Passing the threshold of the Great Hall, Hermione fixed her professor with a quiet stare, her heart still hammering rapidly after the encounter with her old Potions professor. Even after so many years, she still felt uneasy in his presence, knowing that one mistake from her and he would possibly banish her from the school grounds. Stretching her fingers, she found her place by the teacher’s table, her mind deeply submerged in contemplation.  
  
  
Feeling a gentle hand on her shoulder, Hermione turned to meet the warm eyes of Minerva looking back at her – her thin lips curving into a comforting smile.  
  
“What is on your mind, dear?” she asked and swiped her eyes across the busy and overloaded Great Hall.  
  
Hermione shook her head in denial, “I… I don’t know,” failing to meet her professor’s eyes, she sighed quietly, “It is not that I appreciate his help after you had backed him into a corner, but it feels rather…”  
  
“ _Unnatural?_ ” the older witch asked,  
  
Hermione blinked slowly in acknowledgement, “I guess,”  
  
“Oh, do not delve on what was, but look forward to what _will_ be. With his assistance, there is unquestionably a greater chance of success.” Minerva smiled and seated herself more comfortably. “You will do well.” She assured the young professor.  
  
Hermione returned a small but hesitant smile before turning back in her seat. There was a reason for why McGonagall meant so much to her; she had always been good at noticing the small changes in the young witch’s face if something was wrong, and every time the older witch had pulled her into a comforting embrace – she had held her for as long as necessary, for as long as Hermione needed to feel the comfort and the protectiveness of another human being.  
  
After the war, they all had experienced different types of trauma – even though they made it through the war, some of them never managed to heal properly. Hermione drew a slow breath and looked cautiously around her; she had gotten through the war with barely a few scratches and some inner bleeding. She had survived a war that had claimed hundreds, if not thousands of innocent lives of witches, wizards, goblins and muggleborns. She was lucky and she should have been bloody grateful for making it through to see the rise of another day.  
  
 _But she was cursed; cursed by the nightmares of Bellatrix torturing her, of the Cruciatus slicing excruciatingly through her… of sending her parents away to Australia… She was haunted by the sight of her friends and fellow students fall into their deaths, of their heart-breaking screams as the endless pain ripped through them – but most of all for not being able to help them, for standing there and watching… just watching another life being snatched from students – students who fought so bravely for themselves… for their friends… for the school and for the Wizarding world.  
  
_ Hermione upped her speed as she turned into the narrow hallway of the spiral staircase leading to the darkened dungeon; thoughts charging into a million directions inside of her head and it made her feel sick as they pulled her back to the past, back to sorrow and death. As if I haven’t seen enough of it, she hissed dangerously under her breath and closed the door to her office.  
  
She put her wand on the surface of her desk and sank into the comforting depth of her chair. Tilting her head slightly to the right, she pushed away the last tail of the memories rushing through her. Innocent lives had been lost in the hands of the darkest wizard of all time. Her small form gave a silent shudder when Voldemort’s face appeared in the front of her head, the disturbing sound of his voice echoing inside of her ears.  
  
He was dead and had been for years, but even now, the vivid memory of his snakelike face and his flaming red eyes assaulted her throughout the abyss of nights. He had found satisfaction in sentencing innocent lives to death and he had watched them with a gleam in his eyes as they begged for their lives… how they held so bravely onto their last breath before drifting into nothingness – leaving their form lifeless on the ground without no soul.  
  
 _Without no life._  
  
Tears seeped down her face and her stomach gave a hardening jerk. _But you survived_ , a haunting voice shattered inside of her head, _and you do bloody well to live up to it_ , the same voice accused harshly. She looked around the too silent office, her amber hidden behind the blur of her tears. She knew she should have been grateful, and in some ways, she was. But at the same time, she couldn’t understand how a person could go so dark, how one person could carry out a murder without feeling so much as a trace with remorse.  
  
The witch was cut off by the chime of the tabletop clock, noticing its needle closing to midnight, she quietly stretched her feet beneath the desk and leaned back in her chair. She had spent hours upon hours reflecting on the war; on all the lives that were lost during the war, even though it happened years ago.  
  
And though it didn’t take long after she had brushed her thoughts away, that new ones entered her head when an idea flashed before her eyes – _what if they could be brought back?_ Or could they? She knew for certain that those who had suffered the Unbreakable curse couldn’t come back… but those who had not suffered the curse – what about them? _Could people like, say, Snape come back? He didn’t suffer the Unbreakable, but he died of blood loss after being bitten by Nagini_ – the voice in her head questioned quietly when she jumped to her feet and rushed to the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, we'll see more of the two of them together!


End file.
